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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528686">The Fire Beneath The Ice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke'>Lady_Vibeke</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"Easy, there, little one." [ a Boba Fett/Koska Reeves stories collection ] [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bonding, Caretaking, Drinking &amp; Talking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Getting Together, Grumpy Idiots, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Post s02e08, Protective Boba Fett, Rare Pairings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:21:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,200</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28528686</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Vibeke/pseuds/Lady_Vibeke</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“That princess of yours,” he says, still not looking at her, “she's not worth your trouble.”<br/>Koska sneers, “You don't know her.” Sometimes, she feels like she doesn't know Bo-Katan herself, but Koska won't let anyone discredit her leader just because people can only see the tip of the iceberg she shrouds herself with.<br/>“That insufferable look she always wears says she's the sun of her own system,” Fett argues calmly, making Koska feel exactly like the naïve little girl he thinks she is, “and you're just a disposable little moon.”<br/>She musters some arrogance, holds it tight between her teeth as she retorts, as coldly as she can, “And what do you care about this disposable little moon?”<br/>Fett takes his glass to his lips, gulps a small sip, then licks his lips with a faint sigh.<br/>“You might not matter to the sun, but you're vital to your own planet. Even if you haven't found it yet.”</p><p>[ A Mandalorian and a Mandalorian meet in a cantina. Their venomous bickering doesn't end up as expected. ]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>(mentioned) - Relationship, Boba Fett/Koska Reeves, Din Djarin/Cara Dune</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"Easy, there, little one." [ a Boba Fett/Koska Reeves stories collection ] [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2108340</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>78</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Fire Beneath The Ice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28508265">Lying to Yourself</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Name1/pseuds/Name1">Name1</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is what happened: I got Name1 into this ship, she started her story, her story got me into this story. The end.</p><p>DISCLAIMER: I know this story will make you think I hate Bo-Katan, but I don't. She's a cold, stiff bitch and I LOVE her for it. (Love you, Bo, seriously. ❤️)</p><p>P.S. the title sucks. Sorry. 😐</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“<em>I wish you wouldn't look at me like that.”<br/>
“Like what?”<br/>
“I don't know," she hesitated. “Like you could love me.”</em></p>
  <p>— <em>Sue Zhao</em></p>
</blockquote><p> </p><p> </p><p>***</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Mos Espa is a sorry place to be stuck into, even without any comparison with more entertaining cities Koska visited through the years she's spent travelling across the galaxy. It probably wouldn't feel half as dull if she wasn't so fresh out of one of the most thrilling and most satisfying experiences of her life. Din Djarin is a soft fool and a poor excuse for a Mandalorian, but a brave, loving father, and to their people this is more important than anything else. He's also the rightful ruler of Mandalore, now, it seems, but this is an issue that doesn't concern her directly, at the moment.</p><p>Bo-Katan, on the other hand, is furious. She barely told Koska what she had in mind when she announced she was leaving for Mos Eisley for a few days to meet some people, and the gods knew what she is plotting. All Koska knows is that she's sitting on a dirty stool at an ever dirtier bar drinking one of the worst ales she's ever tasted, surrounded by drunken men who keep leering at her in a way that's making it harder and harder not to pull out her blaster and have some fun. This hell hole is so dull even the lamest distraction would do.</p><p>“All alone, little one?”</p><p>Koska's fingers tighten around her bottle. She barely manages to stifle a grunt. Any distraction but <em>this.</em></p><p>She tries to scoot away when Boba Fett's heavy frame plops down into the stool next to hers, but the big Zabrak's back on her other side blocks the way better than a whole wall. Trapped and unable to do anything about it without looking like a whiny little girl, Koska shoots Fett a cold glare and takes a sip from her beer as she nonchalantly comments, “Very perceptive for an old guy.”</p><p>He's not wearing his armour and the scars of his face are almost invisible in the dim, smoky light of the cantina. He orders something Koska doesn't catch, then turn to her with a perfectly unbothered expression than irritates her more than she's willing to admit.</p><p>“You got quite a mouth on you,” he remarks. “Didn't your parents teach you to respect your elders?”</p><p>She doesn't want to talk about any kind of family, right now. “My parents taught me to respect myself before anyone else.”</p><p>“That's a valuable lesson.” Fett hums in agreement as he watches her out of the corner of his eye. “You must have been a very beloved child.”</p><p>The observation makes Koska stiffen despite herself. “I was,” she says without looking at him. She's the one wearing an armour, she shouldn't be feeling so naked, all of a sudden.</p><p>If Fett notices she's uneasy, he doesn't acknowledge it. He's looking ahead of himself like he's talking to no one in particular when he says, “Bet that pretty face could get you anything.”</p><p>Koska scoffs. “That's not a compliment to a Mandalorian. You'd know if you really were one.”</p><p>She came here for a diversion, and if she can get a good brawl out of this, it'll only be welcome. But hers is an insult that falls to deaf ears: Fett doesn't care about being a Mandalorian, doesn't even know what it's like to live in a constant struggle to keep up with the high standards of their people.</p><p>“You were a foundling, weren't you?”</p><p>Koska's eyes widen. This is <em>too</em> perceptive. He's barely spoken to her in the few days they've known each other and even people who've known Koska for years don't know about this.</p><p>Fett breaks into an obnoxious patronising sneer. “I could smell your insecurity from across the galaxy, as I do with Djarin. Mandalorians by blood, like your stiff royal friend, have this intrinsic arrogance in their bearing,” he explains. “But you and him? You both are so eager to stick to the rules and <em>prove</em> you are worthy Mandalorians, all the damn time... must be exhausting.”</p><p>“You know nothing of our ways,” she hisses. The accuracy of his observation is making her skim itch with discomfort. “You are a <em>fraud</em>—”</p><p>“Are you trying to offend me?” he laughs in her face. “It's gonna take you much worse than that.”</p><p>The bottle might burst into Koska's hand any moment now for how hard she's holding onto it. She wouldn't mind using its jagged edges to cut some more scars into this guy's insolent face.</p><p>Fett is kind enough to grant her a minute to let her anger simmer off. It doesn't ebb completely but her shoulders lose most of their tension and once she's cracked her neck from side to side, she actually feels calmer. Until Fett ruins everything again.</p><p>“So, where's Her Ladyship?”</p><p>His gravelly voice sends a shiver down Koska's spine. Maybe it's the unwanted question. What does he care about Bo-Katan, anyway? If he wants to make conversation he should talk about the weather. Koska realises he's drinking Ergesh rum. She wishes she had something that strong to down, right now. Unfortunately, the lack of credits in her pocket won't allow it.</p><p>“She had people to meet in Mos Eisley,” she answers dryly, grimacing at her ale.</p><p>“And you were not invited.”</p><p>The ale tastes awful but Koska empties the whole bottle in a gulp and immediately regrets it when it almost makes her gag. She's had worse stuff than this, so maybe it's not entirely the ale.</p><p>“So, what's your business with the woman?” Fett insists, because of course Kosks's silence isn't enough of a cue to shut the hell up. “You eat out of the palm of her hand like a loyal lil' puppy.”</p><p>Koska slams the bottle onto the counter. She's not drunk enough to put up with this shit. No one can mock her loyalty to Bo-Katan Kryze and get away with that. Koska was only fifteen when her fathers were killed; Bo-Katan took her under her wing, made her feel safe and protected in the darkest days of her life. Koska owes her <em>everything.</em></p><p>“That is none of your business,” she spits through her teeth. She doesn't want him to know he struck a raw nerve but it's like he can read right through her. The man's eyes, however hardened, are placid and warm, something Koska still can't quite comprehend. His reputation says he's a ruthless killer; what Koska sees is just a man to whom fate denied any sort of kindness. Much like Koska herself.</p><p>After a moment, Fett leans on the counter with an elbow. “Oh, I see.” He shakes his head imperceptibly. “How unfortunate, poor child.”</p><p>The provocation slips off Koska's shoulders without touching her. It's something else that is making her nervous. She casts Fett an annoyed glare. “What are you talking about?”</p><p>“You love her.”</p><p>It feels like the whole cantina has gone quiet. It hasn't, though: the patrons are still as loud ad chatty as before, it's just Koska's head that is swimming.</p><p>“You're mistaken, old man.”</p><p>“Your secret's safe with me. Stars forbid anyone catches a shard of tenderness under that big scary armour you wear.”</p><p>Fett drains his glass, then asks for another one. What Koska initially mistook for mockery, quickly turns out to be sympathy. It's written in his dark eyes, in how they suddenly drop to his hands while he begins his new drink in silence.</p><p>There is no reason for Koska to be sitting here with this half stranger worming his way into her private affairs. She would get up and leave at once, if this wasn't such a humiliation. Why is this guy under her skin? How did he get there? Is she so transparent to read?</p><p>“You picked yourself a cold one, kid,” Fett muses, with an edge of wistfulness Koska cannot place. “Only thing your princess will ever love is power.”</p><p>It hurts, and it does because it's true. Koska knows, she's always known. She's lived with this painful awareness for over ten years, now.</p><p>“Fancy a stronger drink?”</p><p>Koska accepts before she even realises what she's doing. So now she takes charity from the enemy, apparently. What is wrong with her, letting her guard down like this, and with Boba kriffing Fett, of all people? Bo-Katan would cringe.</p><p>But Bo-Katan isn't here, Koska reminds herself, and Fett's company isn't being half as bad as she would have believed—certainly not as bad as her loneliness—and perhaps she doesn't really care who she's drinking with, at this, point, as long as she can keep drinking. She's already drank away most of the money she had on herself, and what is left is going to be enough to get her a room even in the cheapest shack in town.</p><p>“Why are you being kind to me?” she asks, a bit guarded. She's not used to getting anything for free, let alone from men like this.</p><p>Fett lets out a throaty laugh. “'cause you're not being a sourpuss.”</p><p>He actually manages no snatch an unwilling smile out of Koska, which would be shocking enough per se without the creeping thought that maybe, deep down, she might even like this guy. Just a little.</p><p>She drowns this inconvenient thought with a generous sip of her new drink, a liquor she doesn't recognise but appreciates for its pungent, bitter taste.</p><p>“Where's the assassin?”</p><p>She couldn't care less about Shand or her whereabouts, she just wants a change of subject and anything that doesn't involve Bo-Katan will do. She'll talk about krill farming if that can steer the conversation away from topics she'd rather not face. Not before several more heavy shots, that is.</p><p>“She's got stuff to take care of before our next job,” Fett informs her like he owes her any explanation at all. To be honest, Koska didn't even expect him to pick up her question.</p><p>“You two split up a lot?”</p><p>“We've always been on our own, me and her. Sometimes we just need to go separate ways for a while.”</p><p>“No strings attached?” she inquires conversationally. If his personal life can keep him from sticking his nose into <em>her</em> personal life, she'll be happy to pretend to be interested.</p><p>Fett blurts out a curt laugh. “It's not what you think. We just make a good team. We're loners... we just figured it'd be convenient to both of us to be loners together.”</p><p>“Good for you.”</p><p>She kind of gets their motives: as fierce as a bounty hunter and a killer can be on their own, they could hardly be defeated in a partnership. Koska has seen them work together; they're well-matched, skilled in reading each other and their opponents and reacting accordingly. They seem to care about each other but not enough to put the other before themselves—<em>wisely,</em> unlike another pair of partners Koska recently worked with who would be ready to happily die for each other but <em>not</em> to confess their mutual feelings. Pathetic. As little as it counts, Koska has much more respect for Fett and Shand that she will ever have for Djarin and Dune. Those idiots are probably going to die without ever realising they look at each other like a couple of lovesick teens. Disgusting.</p><p>Fett is savouring his booze rather than attacking it like Koska is doing to hers. He's poised and quiet in a perfect opposite mirror to Koska's forced stillness. Something about this guy makes the blood in her veins boil—she's not sure if it's mere irritation or... something else.</p><p>After minutes that could be hours, Fett dips his chin in her direction. “That princess of yours,” he says, still not looking at her, “she's not worth your trouble.”</p><p>Koska sneers, “You don't know her.” Sometimes, she feels like she doesn't know Bo-Katan herself, but Koska won't let anyone discredit her leader just because people can only see the tip of the iceberg she shrouds herself with.</p><p>“That insufferable look she always wears says she's the sun of her own system,” Fett argues calmly, making Koska feel exactly like the naïve little girl he thinks she is, “and you're just a disposable little moon.”</p><p>It's a poisoned dart striking so precisely Koska couldn't have shielded herself from it even if she had seen it coming. And she didn't. As many weapons as her silver tongue grants her, she finds herself unable to fire back. Lies are easy to tear down, but the truth... she doesn't know how to defend herself from that—doesn't know if it's even worth it.</p><p>She musters some arrogance, holds it tight between her teeth as she retorts, as coldly as she can, “And what do you care about this disposable little moon?”</p><p>Fett takes his glass to his lips, gulps a small sip, then licks his lips with a faint sigh.</p><p>“You might not matter to the sun, but you're vital to your own planet. Even if you haven't found it yet.”</p><p>This is when he finally turns to Koska, and his look is so infuriatingly <em>sympathetic</em> she wants to punch it out of his face. Her skin starts to itch under her armour and suit, but the snort escaping her lips is all too similar to a laugh.</p><p>She shifts on her stool, Fett's attention heavy on her shoulders. “You're gonna make me puke with all this sappy crap.”</p><p>“I got you laughing, though. And I got to say, your laugh sounds rusty.”</p><p>“No shit,” she grunts, facing away so that he won't see the curl tugging at a corner of her mouth. What's wrong with her? She isn't tipsy enough to justify this nonsense. “Another one,” she gestures to the bartender.</p><p>“I said I was buying you <em>one</em> drink,” Fett interjects, but at this point Koska just wants to get drunk. She'll worry about where she's going to sleep later. Maybe she can find someone who'll fight her for enough credits to get herself a bed somewhere.</p><p>“Relax, old man,” she huffs, “next round's on me.”</p><p>She's been trying all her life to fight every weakness, every vulnerability, but this guy's respect for this disgraceful side of her heart she's so ashamed of makes her feel safer in her own skin, more like... herself.</p><p>“You really got nothing better to do than spend the night drinking with me?” she teases, but it's more a recon move than a real jab.</p><p>“I came for the alcohol, kid. Not my fault you're here.”</p><p>This isn't answering her question. She knows why he <em>came</em> here; what she can't understand is why he <em>stayed. </em>Koska is also starting to think he keeps using these offensive monikers with no real intention to goad her: he probably really just sees her as a harmless child, even if she was perfectly capable to hold her own against him in a fight.</p><p>It saddens her, in a way, that he doesn't perceive her as an equal, because she hasn't spoken this frankly to anyone in years, and Fett's own honesty doesn't feel polished and carefully crafted like Bo-Katan's: he speaks his mind bluntly—no frills, no edulcorations—and doesn't hide behind antics to manipulate the truth in his favour. All he's been saying about Koska was indelicate, maybe brutal, but she can't say it isn't accurate. Perhaps she even needed to hear it.</p><p>This is the spark of awareness that makes her wince: she did need to hear all of that—about Bo-Katan, about how Koska always follows her blindly and unquestioningly, just like a trusting child.</p><p>“I should go.” She stands up so abruptly the stool creaks across the floor. Her drink remains unfinished.</p><p>“Go where?” Fett grumbles, as if he could smell her uneasiness.</p><p>Koska doesn't bother to reply. Where she goes and why is none of his damn business.</p><p>Helmet under her arm, she bursts out of the cantina into the cool night air and strides away through a could of dust raised by the wind. The muffled chitchatter of the cantina flares for a moment as the door opens and closes again. Koska doesn't need to glance back to check who the heavy steps following her belong to.</p><p>“Reeves,” Fett's voice grunts. She doesn't listen. “<em>Reeves!</em> Dank farrik, woman, don't make me shoot you!”</p><p>He speeds up. She's faster than he is, but her legs won't move faster. She refuses to admit she's <em>letting</em> him catch up. Her heart has the nerve to <em>jump</em> when he grabs her wrist, like this wasn't exactly what she was waiting for. Why, she doesn't know. What is it that she finds so comforting about this guy?</p><p>“What do you want?” she hisses when he urges her to turn around. His lips draw a tight, thin line.</p><p>“You have a place to sleep? It gets deadly cold around here, at night.”</p><p>Koska wiggles out of his grip like his touch burned her. “I'm not warming up your bunk just to have a roof over my head for one night.”</p><p>“Oh?” He walks up to her, sneers in her face. “What's the minimum nights?”</p><p>“Kriff you.”</p><p>She steps back, arm clutched around her helmet. She won't take his bait, despite wanting to. Her fingers curl into fists. Try as she might, she hasn't been able to scratch away from her memory the spark of electricity she felt when he stood up to her face the first time they met. It took him nothing to trigger her.</p><p><em>Flammable,</em> that's how Bo-Katan always calls her. And yet it doesn't happen so often that pleasure mixes with fun when she's fighting with someone. She wants to get her hands on him again and he's offering her a perfect excuse, but the rage in her spirit cannot overwhelm the tiredness in her limbs.</p><p>Fett must notice this because he backs off at once.</p><p>“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he says as he starts walking away. Koska doesn't stop him.</p><p>She starts walking without minding too much where she's going. It doesn't really matter. Mos Espa is a pile of dirt in the middle of the desert, it has nothing to offer except mud buildings and too much sand for anyone's taste.</p><p>She roams aimlessly for a couple of hours while the temperature keeps dropping. When she feels she knees are starting to give in, she slides into an alley and collapses between a couple of splintery crates. She's used to much worse than this. With a shiver, she lets her eyes flutter closed and, hand on her blaster, slowly slips into a dreamless sleep.</p><p>She senses the intruder when it's too late to react. She doesn't know how long she's been asleep, but she must have been knocked out cold, because when she flexes her fingers they close around nothing. Her blaster is gone. She tries to open her eyes but her eyelids feel heavy as lead and her face is burning.</p><p>“You stubborn child. Look at yourself.”</p><p>Despite the thick fog in her head, she recognises the gravelly voice. What is Fett doing here?</p><p>“Leave me alone,” she mutters when she feels his arms fold around her trembling body.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He picks her up like she weighs nothing. Koska is too exhausted to protest. She's tucked firmly against his broad chest, finding a pale solace in the heat his body gives off through the layers of clothes. Koska doesn't remember the walk to his ship, or Fett wrapping her up in his heavy wool cloak. It's like she blinked and he was laying her down in his pilot seat in the wonderfully heated cockpit of the Slave.</p><p>She feels like her bones have been replaced with shards of ice. Her feet are numb, her hands throbbing painfully.</p><p>“Drink this,” Fett orders her, thrusting a cup into her hands. “It'll warm you up from the inside.”</p><p>She takes a tentative sip. It tastes like citrus and honey and something spicy she cannot grasp. After a few sips, she finally manages to find her voice again. She looks up at Fett with a mixture of gratitude and suspicion.</p><p>“Why did you come back for me?”</p><p>“I knew you were too proud to come to me,” he deadpans. He reaches out and with a knuckle wipes away a drop of concoction from Koska's chin. “Proud and stupid,” he adds.</p><p>Koska is too used to paying for everything to just accept someone she barely knows went through so much trouble so that she could have a place to sleep. It's pitch black outside, away from the city lights. The stars paint milky cascade across the sky. It's prettier from here, where it's warm and cosy.</p><p>Fett doesn't fuss. He touches her forehead and grumbles something under his breath, then gets her more of the spicy tea and fetches something from the lower deck. It's a bottle of oil he warms up on his own hands before he takes one of Koska's hands and starts massaging it into her reddened fingers until the purple fades from their tips and she slowly starts feeling them again. For one with such large, coarse hands, he has a surprisingly delicate touch that makes Koska's skin burn more than the contrast between her cold and his heat.</p><p>Koska lets her head lean into the seat's headrest with a blissful half a smile she can't help. She hates owing Boba Fett, but she'd e lying if she said she isn't glad he found her.</p><p>She's still shivering like a frozen kitten and feels pathetic for this. Fett fetches a blanket and drapes it around her shoulders like it's nothing, but to Koska, who is so starved for touch she feels she might fall apart under the soothing weight of Fett's strong arm, it's almost too much.</p><p>The sunlight fills the room when she wakes up feeling wonderfully warm. Her face is hot and sweaty, probably due to a running fever, but she feels good enough to pull herself up, if a bit unstably. She's not in the cockpit anymore: she's tucked into a bunk sticking out of the wall on the lower deck like a drawer. Her armour lies in a tidy pile on the ground below her, her blaster on top of it.</p><p>She glances down at her hands, finding them smooth and soft, and remembers Fett's gentle touch as he rubbed the warm oil into her chapped skin. A vague smile spreads on her lips as some sort of longing flickers into her chest.</p><p>“There you are. Feeling better?”</p><p>Koska looks up finding Fett at the bottom of the ladder leading to the cockpit. He's observing her with his usual frown, but there's an edge of concern to it.</p><p>Koska nods. “Yes. Thank you.”</p><p>“There's breakfast if you're hungry.”</p><p>“Breakfast?”</p><p>“It's just roasted desert potatoes and a couple of meiloroons,” he clarifies. “Want some tea?”</p><p>“Yes,” she says eagerly, before adding a meek, “Please.”</p><p>He brings her the food but leaves her alone to eat. When he comes back to collect the bowl, the plate, and the cup, he checks her forehead again and declares she's still feverish.</p><p>“You should stay in bed for a couple of days.”</p><p>Koska doesn't <em>need</em> to stay in bed—she's stood through worse physical conditions than this—but it feels nice in here and she has nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, so she doesn't protest. He seems surprised by her easy submissiveness, but not as much as she is. She really must be sick.</p><p>Fett looks after her when the fever gets worse, brings her fresh water and makes her drink even when she doesn't want to, dabs a fresh wet cloth across her face when she's too weak to even open her eyes, but she knows he's there, and his closeness is more soothing than his miracle tea.</p><p>A couple of days come and pass, then three, then four. One week later, the fever is just a bad memory, but Koska is still a guest on the Slave I. She keeps saying she should relieve him of her presence and he keeps retorting that if the board doesn't meet her requirements, she can just say that.</p><p><em>Tomorrow,</em> Koska keep telling herself. Tomorrow she's leaving. But tomorrow is always one day ahead of today, out of reach, and maybe she likes it this way.</p><p>They spend the day apart and meet again after sunset, share meals in silence, at first, then the silence becomes a few words about the day, and the few words become a flow, until one day they wake up and realise they're not strangers anymore.</p><p>Gradually, their personal spaces shrink until they're skin-tight, and they find themselves sitting together under the stars so tight they don't really know where one ends and the other begins. Sometimes, when the night is particularly cold, she crawls under his arm and lets him pull her to his chest, where she rests her cheek like she did the first time he held her like this—a lifetime ago, it seems. Koska tries and fails several times to be mad at herself for letting her guard down and letting <em>this</em> happen. In the end, whatever it is, it just feels too good to regret it.</p><p>One night she gets back from town with a bag full of credits, throws it on the table under Boba's puzzled gaze, and smirks.</p><p>“My debt's paid.” She accidentally picked a fight with a guy who had a pretty decent bounty upon his head and the local marshal was more than happy to hand over the reward in exchange for the prisoner. Koska feels quite smug by the impressed expression on Boba's face when she tells him.</p><p>“So what?” he says, staring at the bag like it's a rattle snake. “You think you're buying your freedom? Exit's right there, why don't you go?”</p><p>Koska shakes her head. For once, she's the one who feels like she's talking to a child.</p><p>“This can't last forever.” Leave it up to him to decide what <em>'this'</em> means. Koska certainly doesn't know. “Shand will be back at some point.”</p><p>“I see.” Boba's eyes are still focused on the bag of credits. “Well, congratulations on your first bounty.”</p><p>Koska places her helmet on the table. The bitterness in his tone is tying a knot in her stomach, but a small grin is fighting to surface on her mouth.</p><p>“Missing me already, old man?”</p><p>It's only half a joke. The other half of it is something it might be time to confront, before they're pulled apart again, likely to never meet again.</p><p>Boba gives the bag a shove in Koska's direction. “Keep this. You'll need it next time your princess discards you in the middle of a desert and I'm not there to save your sorry ass.”</p><p>Koska, who isn't here to tiptoe around things, sneaks between him and the table and straddles his lap in one fluid movement.</p><p>“My ass is anything but sorry,” she argues with an eloquent grind of the body part if question.</p><p>Her hands are on his shoulders, her spread legs pressing eagerly against his groin. She leans down to kiss him, but he pushes her away—so firmly it hurts a little.</p><p>“You don't want this,” he says before her inquisitive look. At least she's pleased to find his voice hoarse with arousal.</p><p>He's wrong, though. She wants this. She already wanted this that first night in the cantina.</p><p>She takes his face between her hands, scrutinises fondly every single scar marking his face, and those dark eyes she's grown to love so quickly, and all she sees is <em>hope.</em></p><p>“You don't get to tell me what I want,” she whispers upon his lips. Her forehead touches his and Boba's eyes fall closed.</p><p>“Don't do this to yourself, kid.”</p><p>There's a hint of desperate conflict in his voice; Koska holds onto it tooth and nail.</p><p>She runs her thumbs across his cheeks, breathing over his mouth, “If you don't want to, just say no.”</p><p>She starts pulling back, waiting, but she's only moved an inch when Boba's arms envelop her into a hungry embrace, drawing her back to him.</p><p>“You better not regret this, little one.”</p><p>She barely has the time to <em>think</em> she wants to snort at this before instinct takes over reason and makes her bend her head to finally capture his lips in a frantic kiss that swallows them both in a vertigo on unexpected euphoria.</p><p>It's been a while for Koska. She doesn't remember much of her previous kisses and even less of her previous partners. She never mixed sex and affection, and while this has been working just fine on a practical plane, emotionally it always left her with a raging hunger inside that the lack of an emotional involvement with her sexual partners has never been able to satiate.</p><p>But this—this is different. This is the food her starving soul was craving for.</p><p>When they break apart, shallow pants and dizzy heads, Koska feels like her entire body is on fire. She wants more. She wants <em>everything.</em> She can never go back to what she had before.</p><p>Their foreheads are still pressed together as they catch their breaths. Koska's legs are clutched at the sides of his hips as tight as his arms are folded around her waist. She doubts they'll be able to let go of each other any time soon.</p><p>“Bo-Katan has returned,” she conveys, still panting. “She has business to sort out with some contacts in Galactic City.”</p><p>Boba stills beneath her. “You're invited, this time?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>She feels him stiffen. His fingertips dig in the small of her back, so hard they're going to leave bruises. Koska she doesn't care. Let him mark her. She wants to see his prints in her flesh.</p><p>“But I'm not going.”</p><p>He pulls back in surprise. There is a question painted in the puzzled creases across his brow.</p><p>“I'm gonna stick around for a while,” she informs him like it's no big deal—like one minute ago they weren't discussing goodbyes.</p><p>“Here?” he rasps, hands sliding to her flanks with a gentler grip.</p><p>Koska places a hand on his chest and runs the other down his marred face in a playful caress.</p><p>“You got a problem with that, old man?”</p><p>“Seems like an unlikely place for such a feisty young woman.”</p><p>She forbids herself to smile. This is part of the game, isn't it? Keeping up the tough charade even when they're so openly wearing their hearts on their sleeves and all that crap.</p><p>She tries to make her grin at least a little bit obnoxious.</p><p>“Maybe I kinda like this planet.”</p><p>The way his eyes widen imperceptibly tells her he caught what she's trying to say between the lines. This is <em>his</em> metaphor, after all.</p><p>“Do you, now?”</p><p>“I said <em>maybe,” </em>she stresses. She doesn't know what she's doing, but it feels like it's worth it, however it goes.</p><p>“<em>Maybe,</em>” Boba ponders with a light, knowing chuckle surfacing on his lips. <em>“Maybe</em> will do.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>After the Soft Idiots™ aka CaraDin, please welcome the Grumpy Idiots™ aka Boska.</p><p>I'm so happy that there are people enjoying this ship! I saw the comments to Name1's story and was so thrilled! This is so much more than I expected! I hope you guys enjoy this story as well, it put all my heart in it and absolutely loved writing it, even if it was a huge challenge.</p><p>Let me know what you think? ❤️</p></blockquote></div></div>
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